


Samantha

by poisontaster



Series: AKB Outtakes [6]
Category: Actor RPF, CW Network RPF, Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, F/M, Sexual Slavery, Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-09
Updated: 2013-02-09
Packaged: 2017-11-28 18:04:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/677291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poisontaster/pseuds/poisontaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe someday Sam will be able to feel grateful.  Today is not that day.  1996.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Samantha

"God _dammit_ , Jeff, I didn't ask you to buy me!"

Jeff twirls his straw wrapper around in his fingers, feigning a nonchalance he doesn't feel in the least. This was a bad place to have this conversation. He should have taken her home first, but he thought this might have gone better on neutral territory. Now he knew he was wrong. 

"I know you didn't," he says reasonably. It's much harder to look at her, to meet the frustrated and humiliated fury in her eyes. "Which raises the question: _why_ didn't you? Or better yet--why didn't you ask me for help before shit got this bad, that I _had_ to buy you to save you from your damn fool self?"

"Because I knew you'd do something like this!" He watches her eyes dart sideways and practically sees the calculations going on behind them: a slave yelling at her master. Dull red burns in her cheeks, mouth hooking downward into an ugly bow. She tugs at her collar. Jeff can see the skin underneath it is pinked, slightly abraded, as if even it is rebelling against her new status. And now she's the one who can't meet his eyes. "It's not your problem, Jeff. I didn't need you to sweep in and save me like some goddamn damsel in a dress."

"I believe that's damsel in distress," Jeff corrects, struggling not to let his own irritation bleed through to the surface, "and, the hell you didn't. Do you know what kind of work they had you earmarked for, Sam? They had you rated as 'no skilled labor' and too old for anything as posh as body-slave."

"Posh," Sam repeats derisively, eyebrows arched. "Is that how you look at it?"

Jeff pushes from the table, puts his back against the booth wall. "Dammit, Sam, you know what I mean."

"And what about you?" Sam ignores Jeff, turning her head to look at Kane instead, who's doing his best imitation of a statue. "You think being a body-slave is easy living?"

Kane lifts his head, eyes unshuttering from their half-lidded repose. "I think working for this sumbitch here," he hooks a thumb at Jeff, "is a damn sight better than slaving for most of these rich fuckheads." Jeff thinks that's supposed to be a compliment, in Kane's usual bass-ackwards way and so he stays quiet, twisting the straw wrapper into something vaguely resembling a dog. "And I think, old as you are, you're damn lucky to have a friend like him, rather than ending up on a work farm, academy or med facility."

Sam's fury is like the radiant heat of the sun, crisping Jeff where he sits. He only dares glance up from beneath his lashes at her. Sam's mouth is twisted even harder, a flat, hard line that makes him squirm even when it's _not_ directed at him. "Well, aren't I the belle of the fucking ball." She points a finger at Jeff, making him look up. "I'm not fucking you, if that's what you were thinking. That part of our friendship died the moment you paid cash money for me."

"Well, actually it was a cashier's check," Jeff begins, then holds up his hands harmlessly as she menaces him with her soup spoon. "I wouldn't think of it." He reaches for her hand but stops himself halfway, unsure what the protocol is now. "Sam. I mean it. I wouldn't ask that of you."

"Isn't that the whole point?" Sam rakes her hair behind her ear savagely, glaring down at her food. "You don't have to ask for anything. Not anymore."

Jeff opens his mouth to say something and Kane steps heavily and purposefully on Jeff's instep. Contrary to what Jeff's friends like to think about him, Jeff can take a hint. He shuts up.

It doesn't seem like there's much else to say.

***

It's nearly a week before Jeff sees Sam again.

Oh, she's all moved in, of course, but she hasn't emerged from the mother-in-law suite where he installed her and only Kane's reassurances that she's taking and returning the plates of food he leaves at her door has kept Jeff from breaking the door down or something similarly melodramatic. 

Still, it's a surprise—as he's nursing his first cup of coffee for the day and vaguely waiting for his brain to come online—for her to come shuffling in, red-eyed and wan. She's wearing a long nightgown that straddles a weird line between matronly and strangely hot, the red robe she wears over it falling off her shoulders and puddling into her elbows. 

"Hi," Jeff says cautiously, testingly, struggling and probably failing to not look as surprised as he feels.

"Lem took all the money when he left." Sam's voice is dull and toneless as she flops gracelessly on the footstool near him. From the smell of her, Kane's been leaving bottles of booze with the food and her hair is stringy and unwashed. "The checking, the savings, money market accounts…all of it. And I thought… I thought if I sold things—the house, my car, my jewelry—I thought I could recoup it. Start over. I didn't need all that shit, right?" She sighs unsteadily, nails raking through her hair and snagging in the tangled ends. 

Jeff doesn't know what to say. There's nothing he _can_ say. He'd never liked Lem, Lem had never been 'one of them'. But he can't say that and Sam doesn't need to hear it. At this moment, Jeff doesn't think there's much that Sam _does_ need to hear from him. 

All he can give her is his silence.

"Anyway. I know that Alicia—Madame Silverstone," Sam corrects, with a slight clench of her hands in the fabric of her gown, "is taking over the Foundation, but… What about my animals, Jeff? What about Kramer and Bitsy and The Great Empress Chow-Chow?"

The eyes she turns on him are glassy with unshed tears and the kind of pain that Jeff would give all his great wealth and small chunks of his soul to be able to alleviate. "I…" He knows the moment she reads the answer from his face by the way her eyes and expression slam shut like bank vault doors. Jeff holds out his hand. "Sam, I…I'm sorry. I tried. By the time I found out…it was too late. I barely got to you in time."

Sam nods once, jerkily, and then ducks her face—though not so quickly that Jeff misses the tears that plunge from her eyes to her lap. 

"Sam—" Jeff reaches for her, but she fends him off with a sharp swat of her arm. 

"Don't. I just…" She lurches up from the stool, strangely graceful. "Leave me alone."

***

Jeff expects it'll be at least another week before Sam emerges again. Sam's no stranger to loss but this is the loss of _everything_ , everything that meant something to her and he has no doubt in her mind that Sam ranks the loss of her menagerie of rescued animals above her own freedom.

In any case, it's another shock to his system to come downstairs the next morning in search of a desperately needed caffeine fix—perhaps coffee _and_ chocolate, breakfast of champions—to find the coffee already made and Sam in the middle of making something mysterious and delicious-smelling with more groceries and pans than Jeff knew he owned. 

"Your refrigerator is disgusting," Sam announces, without looking up from her mixing bowl.

"Yes, ma'am." Jeff creeps around the island to grab a mug. 

"It's amazing the three of you haven't died of malnutrition, all the take-out you eat."

"Yes, ma'am." He sidles over to the coffee pot and pours rich, brown heaven into his mug. 

"I'm tired of the burnt toast and Spaghetti-Os that passes for food around here. And it's no fit food for a growing boy."

"Yes, ma'am." Jeff dumps several slopping spoonfuls of sugar into his cup, stirs quickly and then sucks down his first sip of sinfully sweet nirvana, groaning in pure, visceral pleasure.

"I need a car. And money. If I'm going to get any shopping done." Sam slams the bowl down on the counter and goes to stir something simmering on the stove. 

"Yes, ma'am."

"Stop calling me ma'am. This'll all be done in fifteen minutes."

"Yes, ma—" Jeff takes another sip of coffee. "All right." He starts to mooch back toward the door.

"Jeff." Sam's shoulders are tight and she's still not looking at him. "I'll need…I'll need my collar, if I'm going out."

Jeff nods. "All right. I'll bring it down."

***

Jeff closes his eyes and lets the breeze from the ocean cool his blood heated face. He doesn't move when he hears the patio door slide open.

"So you don't knock anymore?"

Not the voice he was expecting. He opened his eyes and turned around. "I _did_ knock," he says mildly, hoisting himself on the balustrade. "You were…uh…otherwise occupied."

It's too dark for him to tell if she blushes but he suspects not. "Where's Jared?"

"Out with the dogs. Of course."

Sam snorts faintly. "Of course." She tilts her head, tucking her hair behind her ear before she crosses her arms over her ribs. "What did you want?" she asks finally.

Jeff fishes in his pocket. "You left the key. I thought you might want out of that." He holds it out to her, gesturing at her neck."

Sam tugs at her collar reflexively and immediately lets her hand drop as if burned. "Thank you." She takes the key from his palm with the barest brush of skin, craning to reach the lock. Jeff doesn't offer to help, kicking his heels against the cut stone. The metal chimes sweetly as she finally gets it undone, coiling it into her hand and extending it to him.

Jeff waves his hand. "Keep it. You shouldn't have to wait for me to put it on or take it off."

"Thanks." She crams it into her pocket and wipes her palm on her jeans absently. 

For a change, Jeff doesn't feel like he has much to say, his mouth wringing for a beer and vague white noise humming through his ears. He's not sure what it is yet, this feeling. Buying Sam…it had been a desperation move, a panicked gesture at the thought of so dear a friend going down. And it's not that he regrets it, exactly, the same way he doesn't really regret taking Jared on but—as with Jared—he has a sudden sense of _weight_ and inevitability that sits as uncomfortably as Sam's collar.

"Is this going to be a problem?" Sam's hands go to her hips, stance widening like she's expecting a fight. 

"You mean other than my being scarred for life after seeing you ride Kane like a thoroughbred?" Jeff's mouth turns up in a rueful grin. Sam snorts again, louder this time and she steps forward to bat his shoulder, almost like old times. Jeff shakes his head. "You 'n Kane can fuck like bunnies, if that's what's gonna make you happy, Sam." He pauses, tapping his fingertips against the stone. "Is that what's going to make you happy?"

Sam hitches a shoulder. "Happy? No. We're not in love, Jeff." Another shrug and she shakes her hair back impatiently. "He just… I feel better. That's all. I needed to feel better."

"Do you think I'd begrudge you that?"

"No, of course not." Sam sighs and shuffles her feet. "It's just…it's different now. I'm different. And I don't even know what it all means, yet. You—you're a master."

"So were you," Jeff points out quietly.

She spreads her hands before tucking them in her back pockets. "Yeah, well…I'm not anymore."

Her voice comes out perfectly steady, but they've been friends a lot longer than they've been master and slave; Jeff hears the quaver behind it. Jeff's not sure if it's still okay but he holds his arms out.

Sam moves slowly, unwillingly, but she does come those couple steps, her breath whooping unevenly in her throat. She's shaking when he hugs her—tight enough to be real, loose enough she can pull herself away if she needs to. 

"I'm sorry," Jeff whispers into her hair. "I'm so sorry, Sam. If I'd had more time…"

Sam shakes her head sharply, tickling his nose. "I know you did what you could. I know that. And…maybe some day I'll be able to thank you for it. But I can't do it right now, Jeff. I can't. I just can't."

"No one's asking you to. _I'm_ not asking you to. You don't owe me anything."

Sam tugs backward, putting space between them. "Right now it feels like I owe you too goddamn much." She wipes her mouth with the heel of her hand, her eyes. "I…I gotta get dinner ready. Jared will be hungry."

She lets herself back in the house. Jeff stays where he is and watches her go.


End file.
